


Life of Herbie

by Psychopersonified



Series: Life of Herbie [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: AI, Banter, Data - Freeform, Fluff, Getting Together, Humour, M/M, Technology, with help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:41:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25909045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Psychopersonified/pseuds/Psychopersonified
Summary: Q's creation, Herbie the spy robot - a less intimidating extension of his Shadow Network AI is starting to become self-aware.An alternate 'how they got together' story featuring the little spy robot.Somewhat PIXAR-ry. Super-fluff.
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Series: Life of Herbie [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1880308
Comments: 61
Kudos: 237





	Life of Herbie

**London - SIS HQ**

“Oww!” Q gasps pulling his hand out of his bag. He’d been rummaging through it for his Oyster card when something inside pricked his finger. He peeks inside, not recalling having kept anything sharp in there unless it was as a stray pen. 

A dark little object the size of an AirPod case catches his eyes. A cluster of eyes stare up at him, all three of the lenses are a different size which gives it a weird uneven look - a face only a mother could love, some might say. 

“Hey… what are you doing in here? I thought I put you back in the vault?” Q frowns perplexed. “HQ isn’t spying on me are they?” He directs the questions at the robot, but he’s talking to himself really. 

*Ping* a notification chimes on his phone. It’s a text from a withheld number. Strange.

::Go home?:: The text asks. 

_What?_ The furrow between his eyebrows deepen. That’s rather creepy… His brain runs through the different possibilities - phone number spoofing, AirDrop spamming, all the way to Bluetooth hijacking. 

He’s so preoccupied with running scenarios that he doesn’t notice that Herbie has scampered up his sleeve and has slipped inside the breast pocket of his jacket until it buzzes again. 

“Herbie, what are you doing??” he whispers, quickly using his hand to shield the robot from public view. It’s not supposed to be outside of HQ! It’s a breach of security to remove field equipment without approval (his approval ironically). Granted he is the Quartermaster, but all the more reason to set a good example. 

Herbie pokes his palm with two sharp legs. As it does, Q gets another text. 

:: Go home with Q ::

Q freezes, eyes wide as saucers. _This is a joke - surely_. It must be Nish or Mark is pulling a good one at his expense. He looks around, he’s still at the bus stop outside HQ, so he walks back into the compound and seats himself on one of the planters and pulls out his laptop.

A few minutes of furious typing later and he comes to the conclusion that no; it isn’t Nish or Mark or anyone else playing a joke on him. They’ve all gone home. And the code that Herbie is using to send him the messages is isolated from all its other programming. The AI’s neural network is doing this on its own - no higher input or command from anyone.

Q sits in stunned silence. _What the…??_

Another text :: Q good? :: then an image, a screenshot of Q’s increased heart rate from his Smart Watch data. 

“I’m fine…,” He feels a silly answering the robot, even though he talks to it all the time safe in the knowledge the thing didn’t understand his absent-minded ramblings. But now that he knows it understands him, he feels a little self-conscious. 

“We have to put you back inside, it’s against the rules for me to bring you home,” Q says as he packs up, preparing to go back inside. 

His phone chimes with one message after another the notifications vibrating on his wristwatch as well. 

:: Home ::

:: Go home with Q ::

Q swipes his token on the security panel to the side of the entrance. *Bzzt* Denied. Again. *Bzzt* the thing buzzes rudely. _Impossible._

:: HOME ::

_Okaay… I’m dreaming… my AI wants to come home with me._

He’s used to some of the weird things the robots have been doing lately, behaviours that seem inexplicably sophisticated, but this takes the cake. It has never actually reached out on its own accord to interact with anyone. 

_I suppose there’s no harm in it for one night. “_ Alright fine. Just for tonight.”

Q swears the robot vibrates with what he interprets as happiness as it settles more securely in his pocket whilst still being able to peek out. 

——

**Waitrose King’s Road**

:: Not home? :: The notification on his watch reads. 

“Not yet, just stopping for some groceries. Some food,” Q says as quietly as he can. 

A beat and then :: Food :: picture after picture of food items is sent to him. “Yes. Yes. They’re all food. But I don’t want all of them. Just some of them.”

Q spends 20 minutes shopping. Herbie occupies the time hanging halfway out of his breast pocket scanning the place in what can only be described as pure curiosity. Q finds out that the barcodes are its favourite when he turns over a package and Herbie realises that it can scan the barcode to get much more information online. It sends Q screenshots of the nutritional information it finds - redundant, but whatever. 

By the time Q goes to the self-checkout; Herbie understands that Q’s diet consists entirely of too much salt and MSG than is healthy for a human, he’s spending less than expected on his weekly shop, has forgotten to put milk in his cart (which it helpfully reminds Q), has cats (two in fact based on the frequency and quantity of cat food purchase), and on some Fridays, has dinners with someone. 

_Good God!_ The AI is linking browsing data, banking data, shopping data, metadata, calendar data, email, geotagging and god knows what else - finding patterns, comparing it with current behaviour and then using it to compile a profile of his person and habits with frightening accuracy. 

On his way to the tube station, Herbie sends him more pictures of food. This time the list seems much more curated not just random food items. In fact all of them look very appetising… 

Then he realises something familiar about the dishes - they’re all his favourite. The kind of Friday evening treats he has when he accepts dinner invitations from Bond. In fact, the pictures are from the very restaurants they’ve been to. Herbie must be looking up his geolocation history!

He nearly drops his shopping at the realisation. Floored at the leaps of logic the AI is making in just the span of less than an hour. “Yes Herbie, they look delicious.” His stomach makes an involuntary growl at the sight of the pictures. 

:: Q good? :: 

It’s the second time the AI’s asked the question. Does it even understand what ‘good’ means? “Herbie, do you know what good means?”

A long pause. Then Herbie sends him a long definition of ‘well-being’ as well as links to CDC, WHO, World Economic Forum guidelines regarding the concept and the various measurements used to quantify overall well-being. So Herbie is asking about his wellness status… then he makes the connection: wellness -> good -> happy. 

Herbie is asking if he’s _happy_.

Awwww… his cold logical heart melts at that, it brings literal tears to his eyes. Herbie _cares_. Wait no, can’t jump to conclusions - it would mean Herbie has emotions, which is unlikely at this point. Herbie doesn’t understand happiness or it would have used that definition - it could simply be wanting to ascertain if Q was at optimum running condition and ‘good’ was the only colloquialism it knows. Still, its a rather nice thought isn’t it? 

Then there’s the screenshot of his smartwatch data Herbie sent him earlier - The AI must be correlating his biological reactions to situations and the environment around him and using the information to give it an additional layer of context. _Fucking brilliant!_

Q bursts out laughing in the middle of the street. People skirt around him, at his odd behaviour. He doesn’t care _. Oh my God!_ He looks around for a place to sit, still trying to get a hold of himself. 

He finds a free bicycle rail and rests against it. He knows he should be concerned. This is unheard of in an AI. But at the same time, he’s so amazed and proud and touched and… and… he does even have the words for it. 

He touches his breast pocket unconsciously, petting Herbie through the material of his jacket. The robot peeks out further, three uneven eyes looking at him curiously. _Oh, Herbie!_ Q sniffles. 

:: Q good? :: It asks again. 

“Yes Herbie, I’m good. Very good.” 

:: Laugh good? :: Herbie sends several pictures of laughing faces. Q recognises them as the stock training photoset used for the AI’s early facial recognition program. 

“Yes Herbie, usually laughing is good,” Q is aware now that Herbie is trying to correlate his facial expressions with his biological readings - more contextual layers to augment its understanding of the world. 

Herbie seems satisfied at that - or thinking, whichever the case, it slinks back down into his pocket and stays silent for a while. Q eventually gets over his insipidness and resumes his way to the train station. 

:: Wait :: Herbie buzzes him. 

“What? Why?” 

:: Make Q better. :: is Herbie’s enigmatic reply. _What does that even mean?_

Herbie sends him a map to a restaurant. A rustic pizza and pasta place that’s just s few streets away. “Are you trying to change my eating habits?” Millions of pounds and thousands of man-hours poured into development and Herbie is now a trawling Yelp reviews and making dining suggestions. 

_Fine, just go along with it._ Humour the AI. It’s nearby after all. 

When he gets to the pizza place. It’s packed. The waitress asks if he has a reservation. 

“No?” he answers apologetically. _Ah, well…_ Q thinks that’s the end of the experiment. One of the most advanced AI’s in the world thwarted by a human social construct. 

:: Collin Mitchel ::

“Umm… sorry, could you please check if it's possibly under Collin Mitchel?” he doesn’t want to appear too pushy in case Herbie is wrong about it. 

She consults her iPad, “Oh yes we have you, right this way.”

“Herbie, you did not hack the restaurant reservation and bumped someone else off did you?” Q whispers to Herbie harshly as he is lead to his table. How do you explain ethics to an AI that was built specifically for subterfuge? Would it know where to draw the line? 

:: No data overwrite ::

Q takes it to mean no. That makes him feel less guilty, even if he still feels awkward, alone and talking to himself. “Don’t suppose you’ve ordered for me as well?” He gets a number of pictures with a selection of pizzas and toppings that Herbie’s algorithms predict Q might like. 

It’s rather dim in the restaurant and they have a table somewhere in the corner, so Q removes Herbie from his pocket and places the robot on the wine barrel masquerading as a table. He hides Herbie underneath his curved palm. Herbie peeks out every so often but instinctively knows to duck back like a shy hermit crab when the waiter comes by to take Q’s order. That is one behaviour that isn’t surprising considering stealth and concealment was one of the earliest behaviours it was programmed for. 

Q makes his selection by showing the waiter one of the pictures on his phone. When the pizza comes it looks every bit as appetising. It’s late, he’s tired, feeling a little emotionally bruised on a Friday evening and hungrier than he thought. The hot meal is exactly what he needs. _Make Q better indeed!_

He’s enjoying the last bits of his first slice when the waiter reappears unexpectedly - showing someone behind him to his table. 

The man plops down into the seat opposite. “So this is what it’s all about. What’s with all the secrecy? Not that I mind,” Bond asks without so much as a greeting. 

Q blinks stupidly at him, completely shocked by his presence. Bond is the last person he was expecting, “Bond?… What are you doing here?” 

The man shrugs, “I got a text from unknown number telling me to meet them here,” he explains at the same time gesturing at the pizza, “May I? Starving.”

“Yes of course,” Q says about the pizza but still perplexed. “What makes you think it was me?”

“I didn’t. I Thought it was an informant…,” he shrugs and takes a bite of the pizza, “… This is good!”

“Do you make it a habit of meeting strangers at short notice?”

Bond barks out a laugh, “Literally my job description. Besides, I didn’t come alone.” He flashes open his jacket to give Q a peek of his Walther. He’s in casual clothes, jeans, a black shirt and a bomber jacket - all no less designer and expensive than his suits. He always seems younger in them. “So… what’s this all about?” 

There is no other way to put it, so Q tells him about what Herbie’s been doing all evening. He shows him the texts. The same time, Herbie ventures out from under Q’s hand to study Bond. 

“Huh.” Bond pulls out his phone and shows him the texts he’s been receiving as well. “So it was you, you little scamp,” he accuses Herbie directly. If they could see inside the micro camera, they’d see the lenses move as Herbie adjusts focus - the robot equivalent of a puppy head tilt. 

“Well lucking thing, was about to head out to dinner when I got your text,” he takes a massive bite out of the second slice of pizza. 

At the mention of dinner, Q’s mood dips. He’s reminded of why he was feeling rather down lately. “Bond… we’re not keeping you from a prior engagement are we?” _We_. Why is he using we? 

“No, no. Was just about to grab some takeaway,” he replies casually. 

That makes Q feel even worse - it confirms his theory. He swallows the lump in his throat. Suddenly the pizza doesn’t seem so appetising anymore and the tightness in his chest returns. It’s been there for over a week now, since last Friday when Bond skipped what he assumed was their standing Friday evening catchups. They’ve been on a number of them over the last several months (whenever schedule permitted), abruptly ending the previous week. 

Bond had offered no explanation. He didn’t have to really, as there was never an appointment made. And contrary to his assumptions, just because there was a recent pattern does not mean there was an expectation that there would be an invitation forthcoming every Friday. 

And this week, as in today - there was none either. Q had concluded then that perhaps he was reading too much into things. Whatever itch Bond was scratching had run its course. Well, it was fun while it lasted. A little companionship to the start of the weekend; now that Eve was seeing someone, she hardly had time for Q and he didn’t grudge her the time she should rightly be spending with her new beau. 

Still it didn’t mean rejection didn’t sting. Bond would rather spend the evening alone than to extend his invitations to companionship and food any further. It hurt more than he expected, which was silly. 

He looks over at the other man. Bond is blithely unaware, scarfing down a second slice while scrolling though his phone messages. _Rude_.

:: Q better? :: Herbie asks again. This time looking directly at him with two legs waving in the air to get his attention. 

Q thinks to lie. To say he is, despite the heaviness in his chest. But thinks better of it - he doesn’t want to mess up the AI’s learning algorithms. So he opts to smile at Herbie, hoping the AI would take that as an ambiguous indicator rather than a flat out false-positive.

There’s no fooling it. 

:: Q not better :: 

:: Q NOT good ::

:: Reason? ::

:: Debug? :: 

Herbie asks rapid fire. The little robot is scurrying side to side as if anxious - but more likely trying to get multiple facial readings from different angles. 

“Q? Why is Herbie telling me you’re not ‘good’?” Bond looks up from his phone. Those normally intense blue eyes soft with concern. 

“Herbie’s been sending me data analytics of your dopamine and cortisol readings mapped against the days of the week, geolocation and bluetooth proximity records. Apparently your AI had concluded that there is a significant correlation between your positive mood indicators to when I’m around?…” Bond’s gaze flits between Q and his phone. 

If the floor could open up and swallow him right about now, that would be most welcome. He is _mortified_. 

“.. and it’s been highest on Friday evenings. With the exception of last week and today?

Q gapes like a goldfish, looking for an explanation that might allow him to save face. Oh Herbie! The AI is taking far too much initiative with improving his wellbeing. Its attempts at helping is… not helping. 

It seems Bond understood the deeper meaning Herbie was trying to convey with its overcomplicated charts and graphs, “Q? Last week, Alec was in a poor place after the botched job in Inner Mongolia. I should have said something. I’m sorry.” he places a hand over Q’s resting on the table, the one that Herbie was using as its hiding spot. “And today, I thought you had your CyberWar nights with IT and the gang. I didn’t want to interrupt.” 

Q can’t bear to move his hand away, “We’ve dropped CyberWar nights to once a month since the Shadow Network is fully operational now. Please don’t apologise, I’m the one who should be apologising for interrupting _your_ evening,” internally berating himself for the misunderstanding. “And Alec, of course! How is he?” he tries to change the subject. 

“Nothing a couple of bottles of vodka and an experienced babushka wouldn’t cure,” Bond jokes, wagging his eyebrows. He doesn’t add that these kinds of nights with Alec will invariably spiral - at least this time he was relieved that there were no incriminating pictures or drunk dialling offences that needed the help of Q-branch boffins to scrub. He’d woken up with an epic hangover on the couch of said babushka whilst Alec retched into a toilet. The nice old lady who let them crash on her couch; some distant grandaunt of Alec’s, made them breakfast after. 

“And you’re not interrupting. You’ve saved me from a fast food dinner actually.”

“Somehow I can’t imagine you waiting in line at Maccies,” 

“Not even that. I was thinking of grabbing one of those convenience store pies,” there is a confession in there if someone were to look. Q’s not the only one feeling a little apathetic this evening. Bond had considered going to one of the nearby pubs, but somehow Friday evenings without his Quartermasters’ company just didn’t seem complete - such shame too as the weather was wonderful. 

“Worked out in the end though,” he smiles, removing his hand to pet Herbie. 

“You don’t have to pet it. I don’t think Herbie understands what the gesture means,” Q tells him, even though he was doing the same thing earlier. Weirdly enough, the little robot seems to respond by moving closer to Bond and looking up at him. 

“Is that the official name for them now?” Bond smirks. It’s an internal joke that Q gave the original swarm robots Bond’s middle name because they were expendable - a jibe at the agent that annoyed him on a regular basis. But now that the robots have developed into so many variations and wormed their way into his heart, Q’s not so sure the story is valid anymore. 

He might still call them Herbie, but it’s because he’s rather fond of them now… just like their namesake, “Don’t see why I should change it.”

Bond smiles knowingly, “As long as no one accuses you of favouritism.” 

“Goodness, where are my manners. I’ve eaten half of this pizza already. Why aren’t you eating? Not to your liking?” Bond asks when he notices. 

At the prompting, Q picks up another slice - appetite somewhat restored. 

Bond gives him a satisfied smile. “Herbie, is Q good now?” He asks the robot. 

:: Q good ::

“Is Q happy?” He challenges the AI further. 

This takes Herbie longer to answer. Presumably it doesn’t understand the meaning. 

:: Unquantifiable ::

“I don’t think Herbie understands ‘happy’ yet,” Q attempts to explain. 

“Would a comparative data set help? 

“Probably as a benchmark. Since when did you speak data analytics? 

“Not just expendable muscle,” Bond winks at him. 

Q can’t help but crack a genuine smile. 

—---------

**Herbie and the Cats**

:: Cat ::

:: TWO Cats. 

:: Small CATS ::

Herbie texts excitedly as Q grips it by its carapace, keeping it away from a curious Spot and Jellicles. He’s less worried about the lazy and laid back Spot, but Jellicles the Destroyer would make short work of a mouse-sized spy robot. 

“Herbie I don’t think you’ve thought this one through!” Q warns the AI that is attempting to wiggle free of his grip. A better candidate to meet his cats would have been the new Lab Herbie he’s working on - a larger, more robust version that could at least hold its own against the felines. 

“What’s with the fascination with cats anyway?” Inside Bond’s car, as they neared Q’s flat, the robot practically vibrated with anticipation - sending Q picture after picture of all sorts of cats, wild and domestic, large and small, deadly and lazy. 

Herbie sends him a summary of some of the most popular accounts on social media - all belonging to cats or cat-centric. Some of which Q is himself guilty of following. Perhaps this is the AI trying to understand the human obsession with the creatures and why Q has them. 

Q places Herbie on the dining table but traps it under his palm so the cats can have a sniff without tearing the little robot apart. Herbie slips a leg out between his fingers, desperately reaching for Spot’s nose. 

Spot gives the leg a few tentative licks before deciding that it is not edible and therefore not worth his time to explore further and jumps off the table, curiosity satiated. Next comes Jellicles who isn’t so easily dissuaded. The black and white cat nibbles at the leg before trying to grab it and pull. 

“No! Jellicles… gently…” Q scolds the younger cat. 

In his kitchen is another much larger, curious cat. Bond is poking around, opening and closing cupboards looking for something. It’s the first time the man has been to his place and Q’s a little unsure how to go about playing host to someone like him - a man who practically owns any room he walks in to. 

“Try this.” Bond comes over with a large clear glass mixing bowl. Q transfers Herbie over to him, and Bond places the little robot under the upturned bowl. 

Now with a clear view - cat and artificial intelligence regard each other.

“This has to be watershed moment - technology meeting the rulers of the internet,” Q declares. 

They watch Herbie and Jellicles a while longer until it seems that neither is in danger of hurting the other before Q offers Bond a welcome beverage. There is a slight awkwardness between them. A tentativeness that isn’t usually there. 

“Do you think Herbie regards Jellicles as a deity?” Bond muses as he sips his coffee, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Shouldn’t _I_ be the one that it worships? I am its creator after all…” Q plays along.

“Don’t you need to be somewhat universally adored before you get to pronounce yourself a deity? 

“I’m a cult of one,” Q proclaims nonsensically, reaching for the milk for his tea. To his surprise, Bond gets to it first - their hands touching. He splashes just the right amount into Q’s mug. 

“Are you taking memberships at the moment?” he asks casually as he screws the top back on and returns the milk to fridge. 

Q pretends to consider it seriously. “Oh, I don’t know… It's a very exclusive order. There are trials and initiations and the candidate needs to like cats…” he trails off as Bond returns from the fridge and steps close. Very close. 

The kiss is a welcome surprise; warm and sweet - lasting longer than expected. 

“How’s that for my application?” the man murmurs, trailing kisses along Q’s jaw. 

“Hmm… unsure. A second interview might be in order. Maybe a full body initiation,” Q suggests brazenly, wrapping his arms around the pillar of muscle.

“Ah… will clothing be required in this exam?” Bond slips a hand into his hair, tugging gently to tip Q’s head back. 

“Preferably none. But don’t forget to your HB pencil,” Q gasps breathless.

“Oh I brought more than just a pencil…” he slips a hand down to squeeze a firm cheek. “Now which way to the exam hall,” he asks, sucking on Q’s bottom lip. 

——————————————

**_Morning - Q Residence_ **

:: Debugging complete? :: 

Herbie asks Q the next morning. The robot is still safely under the upturned bowl which apparently did the trick. Spot and Jellicles are asleep still, both curled up next to the bowl. Who knows what the three have been up to all night. Plotting to take over the world for all he knows. 

:: Q good? ::

He sighs. He’d forgotten about the AI monitoring his moods and wellbeing. Q wonders what Herbie must make of last night’s data set. It’s a good thing then that it was preoccupied with making first contact with his cats - because Q isn’t sure how he’d explain to the AI that it was not allowed into the bedroom, if it wanted to follow along to gather data.

Q goes over to the dining table to stroke the cats and removes Herbie from its protective glass enclosure. 

“Yes. Very good. The best actually,” he admits shyly even though he’s just talking an AI. Oh yes, Bond’s performance earned him top marks and the man is still tuckered out in bed. It’s just before dawn, not even the cats find it necessary to be awake yet. 

Spot stands up to stretch and yawn then decides resuming his slumber curled up in the bowl might be appropriate. He steps delicately into the bowl and somehow manages to fold all 23 pounds of himself inside. 

Herbie is fascinated. Not only does the cat assumes the physical shape of the bowl; volumetrically, the fat cat does not look like it would fit - yet it does. 

:: Cat is liquid? :: is Herbie’s conclusion based on observation. 

“Well, it certainly conforms to the shape of the vessel. But have you considered that since they are compressible, they might be air?” He challenges the AI’s logic just to see what it would do. 

:: Cat in phase transition. Cat is vapour ::

Spot’s fluffy tail is hanging out of the bowl and Herbie rushes over to touch it. 

:: Cat is solid. Cat is liquid. Cat is liquid crystal state of matter ::

Q chuckles to himself. He should be documenting all of this, the AI is just as stumped by a cat as humans are. Out of curiosity he picks up Herbie and places it on Spot’s belly. Spot is not fussed, giving the robot a quick one eyed assessment before going back to his nap. 

Herbie doesn’t know what to do - its programming does not cover this scenario. It flexes its legs tentatively, testing the pliant, undulating surface it is now resting on. Q rests his chin on a palm and spends long relaxing minutes watching the little spider robot attempt to swim through a sea of ginger fluff.

Eventually, there is shuffling behind him and he’s suddenly enveloped in a warm embrace - the scent of the man he spent the night with blanketing him.

Bond hip checks him, requesting to be given room on the dining chair. Q shifts over to make him happy and the clingy man joins him on the too small piece of furniture. Bond buries his nose at the nape of Q’s neck, breathing deeply.

“Hmm… why are you up?” He grumbles sleepily into Q’s neck, then proceeds to lick the spot before biting down affectionately. 

“Miss me already?”

“Naturally. Best sleep I’ve had in ages. Come back to bed,” he tugs at Q. How presumptuous.

“Never pegged you for the clingy type.”

“Mmmph…,” Bond whines petulantly, tugging harder. Q’s not sure if the man is fully awake yet. 

Maybe he can trick the man into, “Make me brekkie. I’m starving. You ate most of my pizza last night.” 

“Mmm... ate more than your pizza…” a playful bite and more nuzzling, but Q is unmoved. Bond sighs, “Fine… What would you like?” 

Q lights up, “You’re free to use whatever is in the pantry. Impress me.”

Suddenly, Q’s phone buzzes. He reads the text with Bond doing the same over his shoulder. 

:: Cat has vibrational capabilities ::

:: Oscillation frequency 20.57 Hz ::

:: Ingress and egress phases detected ::

:: Purpose? ::

Herbie is having its proverbial mind blown by the new development - a purring cat. Then it turns to face them and greets 007 good morning by way of the question:

:: 007 good? ::

:: Optimal REM-NREM cycle achieved ::

“Yes Herbie.” Bond answers indulgently. 

:: Q good. Q very good. Q best :: 

The AI repeats to Bond the answer Q gave it earlier. It seems pleased. Then a graphical report is sent to them. 

:: Q & 007 Optimal Operating Conditions. Common denominators: Geotags close proximity, food component, concurrent increased physical activity :: 

:: Recommendation - improve rate of occurrence ::

Bond’s low bubbling chuckle builds from somewhere deep inside him until he can’t keep it in any longer and he laughs all the way to the kitchen. 

_Yes Herbie, regular dinners & shags does everyone wonders. _Q texts back. 

———

**_30 minutes later…_ **

“Eat up, we’re going to the zoo,” the shirtless man tells him as he puts the plate down in front of Q. Herbie is clinging to the tea towel draped over one shoulder. 

“What??” Fresh out of the shower, he’d missed whatever conversation that had occurred between them. 

“Herbie’s idea. I don’t give the orders,” Bond conveniently absolves himself of any responsibility. Truth be told, he was rather glad to have any reason to be spending the rest of the day with Q.

:: London Zoo Map.pdf ::

:: Tickets 2 adults.jpeg ::

:: 10am ::

:: Little cats. BIG cats. ::

“Oh Herbie…,” Q slumps, not wanting to disappoint the AI. He didn’t mind the zoo, or Bond’s company for the day, but he has a feeling he knows what the AI’s real intentions were, “You can’t touch the big cats in the zoo!”

——End——

**Author's Note:**

> Might turn this into a series of standalone stories about Herbie's path to self-awareness and discovery.


End file.
